


Nice Day?

by IAmUptoNoGood14



Category: Marvel (Comics), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Arrogant Tony Stark, Bucky is an Avenger?, Clint Barton-centric, Dont expect anything good, F/F, F/M, Hurt Clint Barton, Hurt James “Bucky” Barnes, M/M, Pietro is just awkward, Villain Clint Barton, Younger Clint Barton, i went away for 6 months, idk what this is, no beta read because we die like men, or women, this is just a mash of ideas
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-04-07
Updated: 2021-01-29
Packaged: 2021-03-01 18:55:17
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 15,296
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23531932
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/IAmUptoNoGood14/pseuds/IAmUptoNoGood14
Summary: “I shoot, he runs and she hacks, what do you do tin can?”“I just fucking sat down.”“Keep up old man.”“I’m only a few years older than you fuckers!”
Relationships: Bruce Banner/Natasha Romanov, James "Bucky" Barnes/Clint Barton, Steve Rogers/Tony Stark
Comments: 9
Kudos: 59





	1. How Did I Get Here?

**Author's Note:**

> Hey! I don’t own Marvel, sadly or that much at all. Sorry if there are mistakes or the tags are weird because this is my first fan fiction on this website. Also I’m not the biggest fan of Marvel and I don’t know everything about every single character so sorry if some of it is, wrong, doesn’t make sense or the characters are not the same as everyone else writes them. Like I said I don’t know everything and please leave some ideas or situations you want in this I really want peoples input. Thank you for at least checking this out? I guess. I hope you like it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just to let you know: Clint is around 24-26 in this fic, he is also around 5’6-5’9 Pietro and Wanda are 21-24 and everyone else hasn’t changed. (this is all relevant). The year is 2020 and nothing canon has happened except for everybody’s backstories and Natasha got recruited by S.H.I.E.L.D. anyway. The Avengers still happened just without Clint, Wanda and Pietro. It will all make sense later.

A dirty blond haired man was stood in the middle of the room, glancing about to see if anything that he didn’t approve of was moving. He made sure that there wasn’t and lowered the bow in his hands. It was a black bow that started straight at the top and then curved at the middle and faded back into being straight at the bottom. The sunlight was starting to creep through the shattered windows in the warehouse. The warehouse had been located at right at the edge of the city and had been child’s play to break into. It had belonged to an organisation called, SHINE, SHINER? Whatever it was, it clearly wasn’t important enough to remember. If it hadn’t been for the bodies scattered around, it’d have been a good time to take picture for his totally cool Instagram. 

It’s not like the mans Instagram was dead, he just didn’t post a lot but still somehow kept his following high. He just didn’t think anyone would appreciate the picture except him and the police. 21 bodies were on the floor in all different positions. Mostly men but some women were tangled up in the mix, he never killed children, except for a couple of times, when he’s taken a job offer and hadn’t know that they were there, but it was too late because he had already fired his arrow. He shook his head at the thought. 6 months ago that happened. Now it’s the middle of January. He was wearing a hoodie that was a little too big for him and the trousers came up a tad bit short on the ankles and he walked out the warehouse without any trouble. As he walked he slung the bow over onto his back and walked to the near by car park and walked around the back. 

To say it was a Tuesday morning it was quiet to say the least although it was around 4:45 am, the man couldn’t say that everybody was awake at 4:45 am every morning. Except for the kids that think pulling all nighters are cool or the sad drunks trying to keep the party going even when everybody’s had enough and trying to call it a night. As he walked down the shady alleyway, he spotted a piece of shattered glass on the floor, he stared at himself. He could see himself with dirty blond hair and grey-blue eyes and a scar that stretched across the bridge of his nose and another one down the side of his face, from his hair line to his jaw. The bags under his eyes didn’t help his appearance as blood trickled down from his nose. He ignored it and continued to walk alone in the dark alley. A few seconds later he found his motorcycle leaning up against the wall, it wasn’t anything special but it was his, the one of the few things that was his. Without a helmet, because he was dangerous like that, he climbed onto the bike and sped off into the road. 

The man didn’t care for others safety, or his own, as he sped past the red lights and got honked at by sleep deprived drivers either heading from work or to work. He only laughed. Feeling the wind through his hair as he rode was one of the few feelings that he actually liked. But he didn’t like the cold biting the tip of his nose, it was like a threat, to give him the common cold. Cursing modern technology for not being able to find anything remotely close to a vaccine to cure the common cold. Anyway, they had better things to be dealing with rather than a stuffy nose. Like knowing how to stop cramp pain, from what he knew (not experienced) from the very few women in his life that were close enough to him, they apparently hurt like a bitch and he didn’t want to go no where near them when it was the time of the month. 

Soon, he arrived at an old crumbling apartment building and parked his motorcycle and stepped inside. The musty smell of the first floor did not stop him as he flew up the first set of stairs it was like he was used to it. He got up to the 8th floor and then pulled out his keys and shuffled through them until he found the right key and opened his door. The first sight he saw was his shitty apartment. Cracks scaled up the walls and onto the ceiling, the light bulb was just barley hanging on by some wires that led to who knows where. There were stains on the plastering that had been there before he got there and some of the tiles had been pulled up and he often tripped on them because he couldn’t be bothered to pay for someone to repair it. The sink in the bathroom no longer worked so he had to use the one in the kitchen to brush his teeth every morning. Cold water only came out of the shower so he tried to use it as less as possible and get one somewhere else.

Maybe he hadn’t told his landlord yet about the shitty place he lived in because he was never around and he never had his phone number. He also thought that the reason behind it was because he didn’t want to reveal to him plumber or electrician what a dump he lived in, it was the silent judgement that killed him the most rather than the verbal. Knowing that the plumber or electrician know that he was vulnerable and had no money made his chest hurt, so he continued to live on the shitty excuse for a home. He walked in and chucked his keys onto the fruit bowl, actually it was just a bowl because he never bought any fruit but he just wanted to pretend that he did go out and buy fruit just to let it slowly rot in a bowl like everyone else. ‘Waste of fucking money’ he thought. Eventually he sat down on the wooden chair at the wooden table with a book he randomly had laying around and stared at it. 

‘Lord of the Rings by J. R. R. Tolkien’. The man had never actually read the book but it had a character called Legolas that carries around a bow and a few knives on him, he related to the character deeply even though that was all he knew about him. Suddenly a buzzing came from the counter and he stood up and reached for the insanely annoying phone, he had only realised it was buzzing because it was the only thing in the apartment that moved that violently, and it was also in his eye sight otherwise he would have missed it and regretted it later. He answered and held it away from his left ear for a second to turn on the machines on his ears, which he was sure only had a couple uses left before he had to discard his 4th pair that year. It wasn’t like he was tight on money or anything. 

“Clint? Hello? Are you there, I just wanted to see how it went, because uhh..” The woman spoke but she hesitated towards the end.

The mysterious fellow, now known as Clint, responded “What do you mean? It went fine, no children this time.” 

“The thing is, you know the people you had to take down, the organisation they worked for?”

“Yeah, umm.. it’s uh.. the one with the abbreviated name right..?”

“Yeah, S.H.E.I.L.D? The one with all the agents and superhero’s that help save the world, and rid the evil, you took down one of their warehouses.”

“Great, just fucking fantastic, do you want me to do a flashback or be mysterious and just head right over?”

“What? Just get over here.”

“Thanks Wanda.”

Then the call ended, Clint sighed and looked around the four roomed apartment and left without getting changed. He grabbed his keys from his fruit bowl with a sigh and muttered under his breath ‘I just fucking sat down’. Just under 15 minutes later, Clint was knocking on the door to Wanda’s apartment. But before he got to the third knock, it swung open and he saw a boy in the door way. Clint knew this boy; Pietro. Pietro had silver hair and a stubble on his face with emerald green eyes glistening back at him. He wore a light blue top that fit him just right and some sweatpants that hung loosely from his hips. Intentionally? Clint didn’t care. 

“Hey kid.” He greeted, and nodded at him slightly and turned his body past him to enter. Pietro, forgetting that he had to move, stood there awkwardly. He then closed the door behind Clint and followed him through the obviously nicer apartment. Pietro pointed over to his twin Wanda who was at the 4 seater dining table. He didn’t know why it was four seater because they only had Clint round, so the fourth chair was used for reaching the highest shelf. For Wanda.. obviously. Wanda was rapidly typing onto a screen that was showing many different codes that Clint didn’t understand. It was English, he knew that, he just didn’t finish high school and didn’t know what most people who finished high school knew from their lessons that didn’t even help them in the real world knew. 

Wanda was in a red top that showed way too much skin and black leggings. What? She was at home, she can do what she wants. Her hair was pinned back into a messy bun that was way too messy and Clint almost didn’t realise that it wasn’t just a bad hair cut. Clint was now stood in front of Wanda a few meters away, and Pietro stood protectively behind her. 

“Hey Clint nice to see you.” Wanda said, not looking up from her screen.

“Yeah sure, what’s the matter.” Clint replied, he had his arms crossed and his face relaxed, he looked younger than he already was.

“Umm, it seems like the back ground check was actually a cover up, and the warehouse belongs to an organisation called S.H.I.E.L.D.”

“S.H.I.E.L.D.? What’s that? It sounds lamer than the actual cover up story.” Pietro commented with a light smirk on his face. 

Wanda leaned forward towards the screen, if that was even possible and whisked her hand over the screen and the images shot out in front of them. She scrambled through the pictures and zoomed into one which was a news article about an attack that happened three years ago. 

There were 5 men in the image and one woman, they were all in the middle of a battle between what looked to be doctor robots? Clint was sure he was losing his eyesight as well. The team were fighting on the rubble of small businesses that had been knocked for who knows what and were obviously trying not to slip as they fought. You’d think they were more skilled. 

“Natasha Romanov as The Black Widow, Tony Stark as Iron Man, Bruce Banner as The Hulk, Thor.. as Thor, Steve Rogers as Captain America and finally James ‘Bucky’ Barnes as The Winter Soldier are in this picture. Each person has their own weakness-“ She pointed at each person the name correlated to but was interrupted by Pietro.

“Sorry, but why do we care? This isn’t what we do. We get given the jobs, get it done then get the money. If we don’t get we what we earned then we take it. Simple. So why are we now doing this for free.”

Wanda glared at her twin and continued, “As I was saying, Tony Stark is a billionaire and that helps us because he is stupidly obnoxious and arrogant. He is practically given us a birthday party invite to him. Look at this, his tower isn’t heavily guarded and isn’t always under watch because he has.. his crew. We just need to watch when most of the ‘Avengers’ are out or preoccupied.” 

Clint sighed, “I still agree with Flash over there because what do we gain from this? Because I’m not just going to sit out there like a sitting duck waiting for them to see me looking at them for a week.” Clint was now leaning up against the counter looking at the hologram in the centre of the three of them. Pietro was sat cross legged on a chair looking just a little disappointed from being called Flash. 

“This benefits us because Stark and Banner are geniuses, and who wouldn’t want to make thousands, if not millions of dollars worth of equipment that is not heavily guarded. Also the bastards got his own weapons company..” Wanda finished with a smirk on her face, and walked past Clint and patted his arm as she went to go and get her jacket. 

“Keep up old man, we’ve got to go and buy some explosives.” Pietro laughed at her comment and laughed harder when Clint glared at him. 

“C’mon.. I’m not that old. Only a few years older than you fuckers!”


	2. Who are you?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This is the Avengers side of what they think happened (sort of). Also Tony is an asshole for different reasons. That’s it

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry that this is shorter than the last chapter so the next chapter will be longer to make up for it and this chapter moved a little too fast, sorry about that again.

Wednesday, 19 January 4:46 pm.

Tony Stark, billionaire boy.. blah blah yeah whatever, was sat in the wide seating area in front of screens that showed CCTV footage. He was hunched over with his elbows on his knees and chin in his hands staring at what happened. Tony’s eyes were flickering at each screen trying to figure out who had done it. There was no sound coming from the attacker, which made it harder to identify because voice recognition if it was a traitor, wouldn’t work. No one was spared and each person had either been beaten to death or impaled. 

“Who are you?” He whispered under his breath as his co-worker walked into the room holding two freshly made cup of coffees. 

His co-worker walked up to him instead and handed him the black coffee and said “Stark, take a break you have been doing this for hours. They didn’t take anything that would kill even more people.. so please stop.” Banner concluded his short speech with looking at the CCTV, and his eyebrows furrowed in confusion. 

“Did you notice that?”

“Notice what.” Stark replied, taking a sip and his tired expression made it harder for Banner to look at him.

“What they are wearing. Just jeans and a hoodie, nothing to cover themselves if they got stabbed. No care for their well being. Huh, wearing vans, look old and worn though.. shame.”

“What are you getting at Bruce? The guy is a cocky motherfucker. So what?”

“Tony.. for a genius you are not getting it. The guy is obviously short on money.. and height- but his clothes are worn and torn and shows that he does this a lot by doing a three man job. The money situation shows that they live in the poorer part of the city. If we can link this sort of behaviour to other cold cases, then we might have some leeway.” Bruce finished, and sat down with a satisfied smile on his face. “But first, get some rest.”

With a lot of struggling and excuses, Bruce was able to get Tony to take a break. A light headed man walked into the room and payed no attention to the screens which were playing the 2 minutes of feed before they were destroyed. 

A red headed woman followed behind him and sprawled herself over a singular seat and relaxed, but was still scanning the room. The aforementioned man, coughed a little to clear his throat and spoke. “Hey Bruce.. Jarvis got a small lead and it uh might give us some clues..” Banner gave him a quick nod and rushed out of the room. 

The red head surveyed the room, she saw that there were expensive and extravagant portraits and painting dotted around carelessly. The spacious windows were placed on the left hand side, and trailed up the wall through to the next storey. Fake and real plants were placed amongst each other and varied in different types and colours. Instead of carpet there was hardwood flooring with fluffy rugs on top. 

She looked at the CCTV footage and leaned forward slowly. Inclining her body towards it, she zoomed in on the clearest image of the attacker. It was dark and pixelated but it was enough to get some facial recognition. She stormed out of the room minutes later. 

-Thursday 20 January 9:22am-

All of the Avengers were sat in one room, which had a TV and a fireplace in the centre with various couches to sit on, with different coloured cushions. The fire was lit and was crackling to fill in the silence. White walls encased them inside and were decorated with hilarious images of times they spent together. 

“So what do we know?” Tony announced, clasping his hands together and looking for a volunteer to raise their hand; like a teacher. He had on a black suit with matching shoes and trousers, and his hair had been styled up.

“Cocky, short, short on money, possible spy or sniper training and possible accomplices.” Thor concluded, while he was spinning his hammer in his hands as if it was nothing. 

“So nothing.” Natasha whispered under her breath as she took a sip of coffee. Natasha has on a white crop top and black jeans because she never dared wearing shorts after what happened two years ago when it was the hottest day of the year.

Tony was stood up in front of the group with Steve in front of a screen with Jarvis trying to pull a facial recognition. Steve had on a sleeveless shirt and long shorts because even though it was January, the tower never seemed to have its air conditioning on. Bruce was sat on the one seater couch to the left of Steve. Bruce had on a Hulk t-shirt and blue denim jeans. Thor was leaning against the wall, farthest away from the group. Just to let you know, Thor was wearing some Asgardian clothes, that nobody understood the meaning off, so I will let your imagination go wild with whatever Thor is wearing. Natasha and a dark haired man sat next to her on the couch to the right of Tony. The dark haired man was wearing his normal uniform as he could not be bothered to go and change and would not be able to leave even if he wanted to.

Silence over took them again. Until Jarvis bleeped. Yes bleeped, get over it. Jarvis pulled up a picture of a 14 year old boy, who was on the front of a poster for a circus advertisement. He was stood in the centre holding a bow and arrow which was pointed at the onlooker. The boy was surrounded by red and white stripes and stared at the bottom, ‘Hawkeye: Coming To Detroit: August 19 2009’

Tony snarled. “This is not our guy. Jarvis how old is the kid?”

“14 years sir.”

“This is not him, run it again. I know that he is short but not that short. Especially not 14.”

“It is Tony.” Rivalled the long haired man.

“Shut up Barnes.”

The man now known as Barnes straightened himself up as Steve and Natasha leaned away from both, Tony and Barnes. 

“You just can not handle that a 14 year old was able to destroy your defences and kill everyone in that building without one single alarm going off.” 

Steve’s eyes flickered between everyone. Natasha was sitting back enjoying the show and was sucking on a red lollipop that appeared.. from somewhere. Bruce was looking at his feet in an attempt to not hear what was going on. Thor has stopped messing with his hammer and was holding his self up against Bruce’s seat; now closer to interfere if he was needed. Bucky was stood up and stood a metre or so away from Tony with a light smirk on his face. Tony was slowly inching towards Barnes with an irritated face. 

“Sorry ladies, but the kid.. did and did not do it.” Natasha pipped up.

Every head turned to her and she carried on “First, the poster was made in 2009. That would make him 24-25 depending on birthdays. Also, he’s dead. Did you not hear? They found his body in a ditch years ago after he went missing.”

“Miss Romanov, that does have one flaw. The body was never confirmed because nobody claimed him as their child,” Jarvis reported, “I also did a background check as far back as I could and found 16 hospital reports in 2 years. His mother died in a shooting and his father was murdered by him. His brother’s whereabouts are unknown.” 

Silence fell.. again. 

“Ok man of iron and voice in the walls, who is this man.” Thor questioned.

“Clinton Francis Barton.” Bruce said, reading from the TV and probably saying one of his only lines in this scene, excluding Thor.

A cackle bounded from the front of the room because Tony had doubled over laughing, “Jesus.. he’s gonna get a mouthful because of that middle name.”

Bruce looked at the man in disbelief, “Come on man, Stark you asshole, that would have been a great moment for the scene to cut and for epic music to be played.”


	3. I'm Sorry... Do You Live Here? Part 1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Clint, Wanda and Pietro find them self stuck in a sticky situation and are The Avengers enough to catch their mysterious man?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the really long update and I said that I would get it out as soon as I could.. and school has been hitting me like a train so.. I’m sorry again. I hope you like it!

Saturday 25 January 5:30 pm

“Any more leads?” A red-headed woman asked, she was in her black widow suit because she had just returned from a three-day mission. The mission had intended to be 1 week but someone decided that leaving the front door open was better. 

Her fingers raced through her hair as she casually sat on the couch. Bruce was sat in his lab testing many, vials of blood to make sure that the guy that they suspected, was guilty. He really did not want to convict a guy of crimes that he did not commit. His glasses were perched on the bridge of his nose and give him a professor-y look. He was hunched over a microscope and every so often was leaning back to adjust something.

“Have you been to medical yet?” He questioned, as he rifled through a few cabinets on his left hand side to try to find something but gave up after a few seconds of searching, knowing that no matter how hard he looked he would not find what he was looking for.

“Any leads yet?” Natasha repeated more agitated that he was not answering her question.

“Your safety is more important over... some arrogant little shit who thinks he can just go and perform a stunt like that. Now go down, and get treated because I know that something happened to your leg because I saw how you walked in here when you came in here.” Bruce fired back, still not brother if to look at Natasha and switched the samples over.

Natasha glared at the back of his head for a little while. Just to be sure that he was not going to say anything else, she got up and walked out.

Things had been a little hectic in the tower. Ever since the break in, S.H.I.E.L.D. had been placed under a lot of pressure to cover up the deaths from hitting the presses ears. The victims’ families were on the edge of their seats to find out had done that to them.

Tony Stark was becoming more and more agitated as the days went by. His normally cool demeanour crumbled slowly as his replies came more as stabs to the back. The billionaire was trying to set up a new database about something that Natasha did not really bother with listening to. She did not listen to much of what Tony said in the first place, everything that came out of his mouth sounded to her like ‘science, hit me, I’m better than you,’ on repeat. Natasha knew that Tony needed a well deserved break, but he was better at locking himself in whatever room he needed to and ignored everyone else for the rest of the. And, of course Jarvis was no help as he was obligated to listen to whatever Tony had told him to do.

Thor had been surprisingly cheerful in the situation, he walked around with a huge smile on his face and gave rib-crushing hugs. Thor didn’t seem to care about what happened and Natasha was grateful to have him on the team, because otherwise they would have killed each other from the increasing hostility. Weirdly, Natasha felt sorry for Thor, maybe it was because he felt like he was above normal humans, because he was always treated like a god and not anything else. Also that he did not really understand what it felt like to be entirely human. But she couldn’t say much anyway, interactions with other people and just people in general always seemed to get on her nerves, no matter how hard she tried trying to see why being around other people benefited her.

Steve was calm. Too calm. So much so that everything that came out of his mouth was like the cartoon grandmother’s that children watch that are only there for 15 seconds before the main character is at the centre of attention. Captain Rogers was an out in the open puzzle. You look right at him, but still, you don’t see the solution. It tested Natasha’s temper when Steve decided to be Captain-y and take one for the team. Especially when he shouted 'language' from three rooms over when Natasha said "I honestly do not understand this, it's fucking insane!", three weeks ago. 

Bruce had stored himself away in his part of the lab, he tucked himself in the corner and ran every test that he could possibly think of. He probably even made up some of them; maybe to keep his mind somewhere that was no where near Stark Tower or anything that reminded him of where he was. Even though Natasha had been away, she knew that Bruce had not left the lab in a while, and if he had, not for a long enough time. His legs had kept moving positions, either because he could not feel them or it was uncomfortable. He had been adjusting his posture; possible back pains. Banners’ head swayed forward a little too far at times and indicated that he had not slept in a while.

One man that Natasha has not seen in the past couple of days was Barnes. He had somehow dropped off the radar and had not been seen since. Bucky knew what to do if he did not want to be found. So why seek what does not want to be found?

Frustratingly, Bruce had been right and Natasha’s left leg had taken quite a few hits for her while she tried to choke a few men with her thighs.

Just got to say, sexy and efficient, also a lot less messy.

Pain was starting to slide it’s way up her thigh and she continued to use it more. Trekking down to medical seemed to be a very painful idea. But nobody was there to carry her.. so the old fashioned way (walking) would have to do.

Wednesday 29 January 11:13 am

"Let me introduce to you.. Henry Smith!" Tony announced, pointing towards the screen that had appeared to show the picture of a man. The man on the picture was a _little_ overweight and was definitely balding in places. Henry's face did not look happy that his picture was being taken and that he was going to pounce on the photographer at any second. However, that did not matter at the moment. 

"Aside from being the CEO of having the most basic name, who is he exactly because at the moment he looks like a guy you just picked up off of the street who was just heading to work." Natasha asked, clearly not interested in conversation but she was not stupid enough to stop listening entirely.

Tony was in a new suit that he just got a few days ago for a meeting that he would not explain what for and when somebody asked him about it, he would answer, "What meeting?", and walk away as if nothing had happened. He had had his beard trimmed and his hair slicked back stylishly, who knows who he was trying to impress. A grin was plastered onto his face as he rocked back and forth on his heels in anticipation as to explain who Mr Basic name was.

Natasha was sat in the middle of everyone in the room. She appeared to be laid-back and comfortable with the situation at hand, but nobody had to know that every time they were all in the same room together, she was ready to bolt back to her room and stay away from everybody before she got her composure back. She knew where the gun was and that was alright for her. Natasha was wearing a light grey sports bra accompanied by midnight black leggings because her training session had been interrupted half way through to hold the announcement, which keep in mind, could have waited.

Steve was quite fine sitting and observing the scene as everybody was interacting with each other. He also didn’t mind that Bucky was trying to be sneaky and be as close to him as possible to let him know when he was going to bolt or remind him that he was there. Either way, it benefited them both. Steve was in his running clothes as he had not been the slightest bit bothered to change. Usually he would have ran at 7:00 but he hadn’t seemed to wake up at the time he normally did.

Bucky knew that this ‘meeting’ was going to end up with a short mission and inevitably getting one of them hurt. Emotionally or physically, you might ask but nobody did so why wonder what you don’t ask? Bucky made sure that he was as close to Steve as he possibly could be without actually making it look like he wanted to snuggle. The metal-armed man was wearing a tank top as he had been training with the ferocious red-head who was totally not about to kick his ass before they were interrupted. Surprisingly, he had made a sort of silent agreement with the woman, they talked about their misfortunes with each other and then released the anger in each other by training. He knew that it was weird, but it worked, and it was one of the only things in his life that he knew was working.

Thor was paying the most attention to Stark, he leaning so far forward in his chair, it was a miracle that he didn’t fall out. Even if he did, he probably wouldn’t have noticed that he had moved at all. Thor, as he seemed to always be, was in his fancy Asgardian clothes which nobody probably knew the name of. 

"Thank you for asking, my red velvet cake. But unfortunately and fortunately he is not a guy I randomly just picked up off of the streets. Mr Smith is a weapons dealer, and not the ordinary one you may suspect because he does not exactly, play fair. We found a piece of metal inside one of the agents' heads and when we examined it, it led us straight to this son of a bitch!"

"Language." Steve called solemnly. Obviously not bothering to care whether the others whined at him for saying it but he just could not get rid of the habit, like he had desperately tried before. 

Tony shot him a small stare as a response. "As I was saying, instead of knitting or reading as a simple hobby, this guy decided to be different from the rest of us and started to con people on their weapons. Henry Smith sells cheap and shitty weapons for almost double the price they would normally cost and advertise them like the crown jewels. In my personal opinion, that is one of the top ways to earn yourself a stack of cash but be one of the highest people to kill on every assassins hit-list. Why you might ask is how he keeps ripping everybody off each time they make a purchase is because, money can not buy you happiness but it can make bargaining so much easier.” He paused for a moment to increase the dramatic tension, he looked like an idiot.   
  


“Basically, just to dumb it down for you all because I know that your brains will explode with a large amount of information so I have to spoon feed it you,” thin ice, very thin, “Henry Smith keeps files of information on his most willing to buy customers, obviously he does not ask them. What they do not know will not hurt them. Right? Anyways, Francis’s information in that huge ass building he owns, not nearly as good as mine, might be the key to unlocking how he got into my building. So now, come forth my intellectually challenged friends! We must retrieve this information before-.”   
  
Tony had not managed to get the last of his sentence out because before you knew it, he was on the floor unconscious with a severely bruised ego. 


	4. I'm Sorry... Do You Live Here? Part 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Steve, Natasha and Tony are the volunteers to go and fetch Clint, but they return with much more than they thought that they would.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Criticism is going to be taken like money when I write this and I want it to be the best I can make it so feedback would be amazing.

Wednesday 29 January 5:44 pm

"Thank you for that." Steve said quietly.

"People eventually get what is coming to them, no body gets away with it. Even if you are Tony Stark and think that you are untouchable." Natasha commented as she scanned her gun to make sure everything was how she liked it.

"Nobody's untouchable."

"I never said that they were."

Steve coughed into his hand and then folded his arms, muttering "Right... you did not."

Steve and Natasha were stood outside of the small hospital room as Tony was getting his nose checked by doctors to make sure that no permanent damage had been caused. He had taken a pretty serious hit to the face by Natasha, she thought that he should think himself lucky that she had not had her knives on her at the time because he would have been suffering from more than a broken nose. The silence was awkward since most of the team went off in pairs or by themselves for missions and never spilt from those teams. They all knew each other, but acquainted is a better word. Tony and Bruce got along just fine over their love for science and other small similarities. Thor was friends with everybody, with the big smile on his face, it was hard for anyone not to like him. Steve and Bucky were as close as they were 70 years ago. That left Natasha to keep to herself and she would not change it even if she could.

"How are you?" Natasha asked.

"I- I don't know, I think I am okay, its just with everything going on that I haven't had time to think about how I'm feeling."

"You like him. Don't you." She said with a slight grin on her face and looking Steve directly in the eye. However, Steve had forgotten how to talk and kept looking at anything that was not Natasha.

"What are you talking about?"

"Come on Rogers, do not play that bullshit on me, I won't tell because I have seen how you look at him and how he looks at you back." She said taking a step forward towards him and would not take her eyes off of him until a nurse walked out of the room.

"He's going to be fine, he has been given some antibiotics but other than that he should be fine." The man said before leaving them to deal with Tony by themselves.

Natasha grabbed her jacket from the chair closest to her and walked past Steve to throw him his jacket while saying "He will catch us up later, I do not doubt that, but lets get a head start shall we?" Still confused about what had just happened, Steve almost missed the jacket and stumbled behind the red head to follow her out of the tower.

Wednesday 29 January 7:26 pm

Natasha was dressed in a light red dress that hugged her at her curves and showed off her red lipstick that was carefully placed on her lips. Her fiery hair was twisted into curls that sat comfortably on her shoulders. Her black heels made clicking sounds as she walked on the pavement. The eye shadow was plain and simple, making it look more natural and made you think what she wanted you to. A gun was tucked neatly into the back of her dress which was a little loose to avoid the outline showing.

Tony stepped out of the car behind her and straightened the suit he was wearing, after the incident he had to wear one of his older ones that were still in good shape, but he still complained that the blood would not come out even when Steve reassured him that it would and that he looked fine. He adjusted his hair which was styled back with gel and made sure not to scuff his shoes on the pavement. He fiddled with his watch to make sure that Jarvis would record all of the conversations when they entered the buildings for Bruce, Thor and Bucky to listen to. It was a precaution in cause anything went wrong so they could come and 'save' them.

Last, but certainly not least, Steve, confidently stepped out of the limo. That confidence was pulled rapidly out of his reach in the matter of seconds, when he clumsily, tripped on the curb. Making sure that nobody noticed, he stood there awkwardly waiting to be told where he was to go. Steve's suit was almost the same as Tony's except for the fact this his was a dark blue and not black but because most of the pockets were filled with either small hand guns or knives. Why didn't he bring his shield I hear you ask. It's because he could not shove his shield down his bra like Natasha could. Maybe, because he did not wear bras but that it besides the point. The limousine that they had arrived in had stopped in the not so fancy part of town. It was where drug dealers thrived and people who lived luxury tried to avoid like it was the plague coming back for round 2. It was where a person with a cleaning disorder would have a heart attack. The streets were often visited by the homeless, to try and find a comfortable place to stay for the night and to hope that they do not get harassed by the public. The buildings were crumbling under their own weight and did not care whether they killed the people living inside of them. Shop owners were struggling to keep themselves in business by the lack of sales, caused by the lack of money. As previously mentioned, drug dealers were one of the most richest in this side of town and also quite literally bathing in their own money. Not to be sexist or anything, but women were not a common occurrence because most were either scared half to death to go to this side of town in fear of getting raped or some had no need to venture out into the unknown. But for the few that did live here were either on the streets or on the highest mountains of cocaine with their partners making deal after deal, or even ran their business without any need for male input. Also the women that ran said drug businesses, also were better at not getting caught... just saying.

"Well, lets get going, I do not want to stand here any longer." Tony commented while waving the driver away.

After successfully being avoided by the press for a couple minutes so they were able to walk to the building on the end of the road. The building looked more like a warehouse that was about to crumble. It was mostly black or a dark grey with minimal windows on the sides. Strangely, it was securely guarded. Cameras were lining the nearest streets and suspicious men were walking on top of rooftops who were most probably armed with many variations of weapons.

"Stark, what are we supposed to do now? You did not tell what to do at this point you literally only told us to 'dress nice and kick ass,' but you might have said to kiss ass because currently right now, we are surrounded." Natasha said calmly, she was irritated that she was going in blind.

But Tony's answer never came as he simply walked up to the scanner on the fence and held his face up to it, for a few seconds there was silence, until the scanner beeped and opened the gate. Steve and Natasha looked at each other and decided not to question how he was able to that. Soon, they reached a door which lead them inside, it expanded into a long, brightly lit hall way with a closed door at the end of it. As they came nearer towards the door Natasha walked in front of the boys and quickly pulled out the gun from the back of her dress. Holding the gun pointed towards the door, she slowly opened the door.

"Now, now.. please put the gun back where ever it came from and walk civilly with me." The man said calmly as the gun dropped but not before lingering for a few seconds.

They walked with him.

Slowly, all three walked through the doorway and out into the main part of the building, it expanded out into a high ceiling that curved from one wall to the next. A dark grey ceiling and white walls suited the sandbox of children's toys quite well. The place was lit brightly, even though nobody knew where the light was coming from, magic is quite spectacular. Racks of all different shapes and sizes were covering a large amount of the space. Some had boxes stacked on them and some were show casing many different weapons. Spikes and blades were amongst the clutter.

Smiths' warehouse surprisingly, housed quite a handful of people, people were lugging around heavy loads while others were sat typing rapidly on their high-tech computers, which they were definitely not paid well enough to own themselves. Aside of height, gender and some other stuff, everyone looked the same. They all wore the same black leather jackets with white t-shirts and black trousers. Shoes were probably the only thing that gave them any sense of being unique. One male in the corner sported hot pink trainers that were kept in good condition. He was speaking to a woman who was comfortably wearing green trainers. Steve, if he had been born almost a century later and not had the super serum, and worked here, would have totally rocked up with some snazzy looking shoes that would have been the life of the party.

He would also have to be reminded that saying 'snazzy' is the work of the devil to most people, most people probably all being under 70.

They soon came to a halt in the middle of the warehouse, the man that was leading turned around and faced them for the second time that day, he had a big jolly smile on his face and chuckled a little as he look at them. Tony casually smiled back like he was meeting an old friend and out stretched his hand. The seemingly jolly man took his hand and then felt the pressure being applied to his hand, crushing his hand. Tony on the other hand, did not seem to mind the other mans discomfort, he kept smiling and shaking his hand. Steve was as uncomfortable as anyone could possibly be, he did not like that only one of them knew what he was doing and said person was currently squeezing the mans hand to death. He did not like the fact that Natasha's hand had been twitching towards her gun ever since she had put it away, but that did not mean she would not use it again. Although, it a terrible idea to go and shoot every person they could in this building right now, it would have felt good to have have known that they would have died trying. It was totally do-able, the beams above them would have given them enough space to see everybody and just about hide his body from the shots aimed at himself. He could have them jumped on the suspicious amount of crates, and took out the remaining. But unfortunately, this was no Disney fairy tale and he would have broken his ankle jumping through the glass, which was most likely bullet-proof just to get to the beams and would have set off an unimaginable amount of alarms in the process.

Natasha was not one to be a little worried when it came to weaponry, she was quite comfortable picking up a gun and shooting someone with it, only if she had a reason to. But being surrounded by weapons that were designed to back fire, set her on edge because it could get more people hurt than intended. Also the slowly increasing population in the room with said weapons was not a wise choice. Ever since they had gotten out the limo, she knew that something was not right, and it was not sitting right in her stomach.

"I am not sorry for lying to you, and as you can see I did not come for business for your product but the information I want can not, and I repeat, can not be heard by one of your so very helpful, employees. Do you understand?" Tony asked, his voice was unnaturally calm and firm.

The man before him kept up his smile, he would not have been blamed because the threat of a knife against your wrist was not the best feeling in the world. The man nodded and his hand was freed from Tony's grasp.

"It is understood Mr Stark, right this way." He answered and span on his heel and walked cautiously to the back of the warehouse.

Knowing unfamiliar territories came in extremely helpful when Natasha constantly kept looking at the people around her, she noticed one woman to the right who was dismantling a gun, sneaking a glance up at her every few seconds and when she was caught looking, she did not back down until one of her co-workers put a hand on her shoulder and quickly gave her a screw driver. The woman had brown hair and matching brown eyes, she was young, maybe early twenties or mid twenties. She had a hourglass frame, but it made her seem more powerful and confident as she talked with the man next to her, she could not see his face.

Soon they were led into an office and the man sat down behind a desk with a little label that read 'Mr Henry Smith'. The office was boxy shape and was not very grand. The walls were black and had some scattered family photos of two men and what seemed to be their children. There may be hope for him yet. Fake plants were at each corner and the air-conditioning was over whelming. The desk and chair were neatly placed on top of a light coloured rug that was placed at the back of the room.

"Would you like a glass of water?" Henry Smith asked, "Wait, do not answer that because a little bit of poison slipped into the water supply last week, and we have had lots of employees not turning up to work this week. What a shame." He chuckled to himself again and smoothed out his suit.

"I'm just with you, no need to look so grumpy Mr Stark."

"Mr Smith, you have a sick sense of humour," Natasha and Steve scoffed and Tony tossed them a glare, "As I was saying, I need information about a certain buyer of yours."

"I am sorry, but you are going to have to be more specific, I have many buyers you see, so it is hard to know which one you need." Henry said, his smile had long faded and now he started to look like the man in the picture.

"Preferably one with the first name Clint and last name Barton, but I suspect that you do not have many of those."

The man had now moved over the many rows of filing cabinets at the right side of the room, he moved to the second cabinet and opened the first draw, and searched through the files before plucking out a particular one. He inspected the outside for a few seconds before opening it up. Smith clicked his tongue and said,

"Mr Stark, Mr Rogers and Miss Romanoff, Mr Barton did not come alone, two of his friends came along for the ride and bought quite a few of my products."

Steve's heart started to beat a little faster, he knew how dangerous some people could be and feared the safety of his teammates and civilians.

Stepping forward slightly, he asked "What weapons?"

Wednesday 29 January 10:35 pm

Wanda was typing on a computer when she felt her phone buzz in her pocket, she ignored it and continued to type. She was sat at her desk in her room, she had piles of books stacked all around her. She had earphones in her ears, blasting some type of pop music that had come on after her playlist that she had never heard of before. The only source of light was coming from her laptop and the little lamp that was carefully placed on top of the books that were hanging on the edge.

Another buzz came from her phone and was quickly followed by another one. Her fingers were hovering over the keys before she decided to give her eyes a rest. They were stinging and her wrists were aching and she deserved a few breaks from the hours of research.

She dared to look at the screen and noticed that it was a conversation between Pietro and Clint; of course they had a group chat together.

-Pietro:  
What did I need to get? This little shop on the corner seems to only sell out of date food.

-Pietro:  
Hello??

-Clint:  
Sorry, I can't answer. Driving.

-Pietro:  
Then stop and then answer.

-Clint:  
On a highway? Really.

Smiling a little at the text as she left her bedroom and entered the living room, she decided to answer.

-Me:  
Clint, put your phone away you will crash. Pietro you need to get Bread, Milk, Sugar and the sweets that you bought last week.

-Pietro:  
Thanks Violet, (Incredibles reference btw).

-Clint:  
Pietro, I do not have to remind you every time that we get your references.

-Me:  
Clint!

Then every thing seemed to stop, as the front door came crashing into the opposite wall breaking into large pieces. Wanda dived behind the counter and shut her phone off and shoved it in the cupboard. Her eyes still stung and were not going to help. A red blur came through the doorway, or just a way, because there is no door. She tried to focus on her powers when a heavily armoured man walked past and inspected the place around him.

She could feel her heart pounding in her chest, it was a sickening feeling that pooled in the bottom of her stomach. Suddenly feeling a boost of confidence, she stood up and aimed for the mysterious man, or woman, she could not see their face but tried her hardest as she through the table over to hit the intruder. The man was knocked down but quickly rose up again and aimed at her. Narrowly missing her she rolled out of the way and retaliated by the TV flying into the man giving her just enough time to race into Pietro's room and rush to the wall beside the door.

She was now feeling a headache grow at her temples and felt her eyes throbbing making her vision weak. The glass shards in her hands were causing her to bleed but enough to stop her. Some how, her heart was beating faster and the fear loomed over her like a shadow and the light barely streamed in through the window. Wanda heard the faint footsteps on the other side of the wall, she noticed when they stopped and waited.

The second the door opened, she swung her arm back and threw it. Pain raced through her fingers and she bit on her lip to stop from showing weakness. Wanda did not realise when the arm had been bent back and the heavy metal foot was pushing down on her shoulder. All she could think about was the pain, that she in her hand, arm, eyes and head. The dizziness became all to much and the last thing she remembered was the handcuffs.

Wednesday 29 January 10:35 pm

The ring of the shop door rung through his ears as he entered the small building on the corner that was only a couple minutes walk from the apartment. Pietro did not normally walk to places, because ever since he had got his powers, he did not see why he should not use them. The walk had been peaceful, not many people were lurking around the corner waiting to mug him, this time.

The sun had set at around 8 o'clock and the night sky was brighter than it normally was. The cold air, he would normally feel when he ran, was racing through his hair and nipping at his cheeks making him look like he was blushing. His jacket did nothing as the cold started to grow colder and cause goosebumps on his arm, which had made him walk faster.

As soon as he had entered the small shop, Pietro reached in his pocket to find only the money he had brought and not the list Wanda had made him, so that he would not forget. Luck was not on his side. Pietro decided the shooting Wanda a text would be better than walking all the way back and had not noticed that Clint could also see his messages.

-Me:  
What did I need to get? This little shop on the corner seems to only sell out of date food.

-Me:  
Hello??

-CoffeeAddict:  
Sorry, I can't answer. Driving.

-Me:  
Then stop and then answer.

-CoffeeAddict:  
On a highway? Really.

Pietro walked to the end of the shop to start looking at all the stuff that he wanted to buy that Wanda would not approve of.

-ScaryWitchLady:  
Clint, put your phone away you will crash. Pietro you need to get Bread, Milk, Sugar and the sweets that you bought last week.

-Me:  
Thanks Violet, (Incredibles reference btw).

-CoffeeAddict:  
Pietro, I do not have to remind you every time that we get your references.

-ScaryWitchLady:  
Clint!

10:43 pm

-CoffeeAddict:  
Sorry, sorry. I am two blocks away from my apartment now. Just about to pull into the car park.

-Me:  
Be careful Clint, somebody might see you and recognise you as Batman!

He did not get a reply.

The Milk, Bread and Sugar were all piled up in his arms as he was searching down the aisle for the sweets, he heard the second ring of the bell and paid no attention to it. Soon, he managed to grab a bag of the sweets with way to many calories and sugars that he knew would be bad for him but made the ultimate sacrifice. The food he had chosen was luckily not out of date and did not look out of date. He walked down the till with an old woman at the end. She did not recognise that he was even there until Pietro felt the cold metal pressed to the back of his head and the woman quickly scurried off into the back.

The soft music in the background went just perfectly as Pietro carefully placed his items down and turned around. He saw a woman with a bright red hair but did nit get a good enough look as he ran back down the aisle as the shots behind him, hit the wall. He skidded down onto the floor, breathing heavily. Pietro noticed that his phone had gone missed and sighed heavily, more gun shots flew through the building and broke the glass window in front of him. Just in time, he covered his face and moved out of the way when a kick was aimed at him. The racks of energy drinks were splattered across the floor and had brought down the gummy bears with them. Oh what a shame.

He retaliated by throwing a punch back and successfully landed it in their stomach and kicked them with a lot of force and sent them to the ground. Regaining his breath back, Pietro failed to notice that the woman who was now on the ground, had not let go of her gun and fired at him. Bullets soared past him, but one managed to place its self in his shoulder, blood started to seep through the fabric and trickle down his arm. At first, there was no pain even when the punch to his face landed, he still did not feel it.

But he knew that it would, and only hoped that his sister was safe.

Wednesday 29 January 10:43 pm

-Me:  
Sorry, sorry. I am two blocks away from my apartment now. Just about to pull into the car park.

-FlashReject:  
Be careful Clint, somebody might see you and recognise you as Batman!

Clint smiled as he received the message as he walked through the doors to his apartment building, and nodded to the man behind the desk who recognised him and waved him off. He hastily walked up the stairs and nearly missed the woman and her child walking down. The child was throwing a fit at his mother who refused to get them some ice cream, Clint smiled at woman with guilt and muttered a sorry under his breath and continued, more slowly this time.

A minute later, Clint found himself at his floor. But something did not feel right as he opened the door. He definitely locked that.

The lights in his apartment were switched off, as he left them, as a precaution every time he left his apartment, he made sure that every thing was as it should be. Slowly, Clint reached for the knife in his pocket as he searched his home. He checked behind doors and looked in cupboards to check if anything was stolen. He could feel the fear looming over his shoulder as he opened his bedroom door.

The outline of a taller man was all that he saw before he noticed the fist coming for his face. He did not have enough time to react, when he was knocked back into his kitchen and landed on his ass. Instinctively, he made it out of the other persons way when the floor had gotten hit instead of him. The pain on his cheekbone was dulled by the adrenaline coursing through his veins as he threw a punch at the mans nose.

Now having the upper-hand, Clint grabbed the knife from his pocket and forcefully jabbed it in his thigh. The other mans scream ricocheted through his ear drums and winced at the volume as his hearing aids had been adjusted as he had fallen. Clint's hands grabbed his hearing aids and pulled them out as the pain worsened in his ears. Blondie over there, took it as an opportunity to strike and was blocked by Clint's arm.

Being pushed back into the counter, Clint hoisted himself up and kicked the man again but it was futile as his feet were caught and he was thrown to the ground and punched in the rib-cage.

Despite the situation, Clint managed to choke out, "I'm sorry, do you live here?" with a small grin on his face.

"I suppose not." Was the answer before pain and darkness filled his vision.


	5. I Need Them To Be Safe

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Pietro, Clint and Wanda all wake up in this mysterious place. How are they going to take to it?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the waiting for over a month.. my only excuse is the piles of homework and the home projects that I am doing.. so very sorry. The translation from English to different languages may not be accurate because I used Google Translate, so if you do speak or know how to read that language, please do comment if there are any mistakes.

_They were mumbling. They were whispering. Keep still. Do not move. Getting yourself caught only makes things more complicated._  
_Complications do not, ever end well._

_What are they saying? Who cares anyway, not me; obviously. Keep still. Do not move. They are still talking - good. Focus on that. Focus! Why is it now that I need to have such an annoying internal monologue?_

_Focus on their voices. Like you did back then, the other children who used to whisper about you. They never knew that you were listening. Neither do these muppets. Muppets? Who am I kidding, they are fucking assholes!_

_Calm, calm yourself down. The tears in your eyes are not going to solve anything. If anything, your emotions can go and do one, because they are going to get you caught. Ignore the tightness around your wrists and ankles, it’ll be gone soon. Soon. You know it hurts, but she will find you._

_She always does. Saving your ass is like a typical Wednesday afternoon for her. Right? What if they got her too? No, she is the most amazing and intelligent person you know, she got out of there just before they got to her. That’s if they know about her at all. They could have only come for me. It’s possible that she could never see me again._

_Stop! Stop thinking about that, stop breathing so quickly. They will notice. Keep still. Do not move. Could they not invest in better chairs? Just a suggestion._

_Ignore the pain and tightness in your throat. It’s making you look weird. Stop fiddling with the restraints._

_Stop being so nervous. It’s not healthy. Who cares about health anyway?_

_Fuck! Why did you move your arm. You got shot. Deal with it. They took care of the bullet, now as you escape thank them for it because manners go along way._

_Sarcasm with myself? Honestly, I would not be surprised if I was insane or something._

_Keep still. Do not move._

_Focus._

_Why is it so quiet?_

_Did they leave?_

_Is it safe to -._

“Mr Maximoff, a pleasure to have you awake and, most certainly alive. Rest assured that you will not be hurt; if you give us what we want.”

Pietro slowly cracked his eyes open and gazed at his state.

He was tied to a metal chair, covered in scratches and dents; he did not want to know why. The restraints tied him to the chair and were forcefully clinging and enclosing on his skin as he squirmed to find a more comfortable position. Light aggravated his eyes as he slowly tried to look around.

The floor was a dark hardwood and had sustained multiple dents around the legs of the chair. A new looking metal table was stationed in the centre of the room; he really did not want to know what happened to the old one. Pietro craned his neck to look further and grunted at the pain that pulsated at the nape of it. The walls matched the ceiling and were the most brightest and most disgusting white he had ever seen.

_I do not care where I am, I just need to know where my sister is._

His lips were chapped and his throat was sore. Pietro tried to open this mouth, but nothing came out. A strangled grunt released the pressure in his throat and he asked,

“Where is my sister? I need to know if she is safe.”

Squinting to get a better look at the other people in the room, he noticed one was stood by the door, metal like everything else, and had no expression. The man’s features were defined quite nicely but were obscured by the gelled-back hairstyle and the formal wear. Pietro did not expect any different as he knew if he were to show signs of aggressive behaviour, he would be at his throat. The ear-piece that curled around his ear did not sit well with Pietro, he did not know who these people were or where he was. Suits only looked good if you actually know how to wear them, and this guy did not get the memo. He wore a black one button suit jacket with a white shirt behind it, however it was ruffled around his waist and was completely un-ironed.

_Seriously, who ever is in charge of his wardrobe needs to be fired._

The second guy was positioned much closer towards him. He was slumped back in his chair and had a smug expression on his face, it sent a cold shiver down Pietro's spine. He was dressed in the same clothing as the first guy but he was much taller and slimmer than the first. Also, his clothes looked like they had ridden first-class and flirted with an air hostess on the way here. Pietro did not mind, he knew that he would not remember these guys in a few hours time, so what was the point in knowing what they looked like anyway?

Guy 2# (as Pietro referred to them as; his explanation was that he did not know their names nor did he want to) did not answer, only leaned forward so that he was resting on the table forcing his weight onto his arms and elbows. The uncomfortable feeling of being watched more than just by these men that he could and could not see, loomed over Pietro's shoulders. Sweat had started to formulate in his palms and itched at the feeling to rub it off. But, he continued to stare at Guy 2#, he knew that he did not look threatening, but he liked to wish that he was to make himself feel better. An itching feeling to rapidly gulp down ice cold water grasped at his throat as he felt is constrict as the silence continued.

“Not to be cliche or anything but, who are you?” Pietro wondered aloud. He contorted his face to match his tone; light and curious. Confidence rushed through his veins and his hand twitched in anticipation.

“That is none of your concern.”

_Finally._

The beast had spoken. Guy #2 so far, was nothing special, he has obviously not been working here long. He had already failed Step 1, ask questions. Would a rookie mistake really be that significant in the grand scheme of things. The answer is yes.

“I must be mistaken but, you are the ones associated with angry red-head that attacked me earlier? Right? Because if you are not, then.. we are in a sticky situation aren’t we.”

“You are quite right. Now, we need you to answer a few questions and you will be on your way.”

Guy 2# had shifted in his seat, he wasn’t uncomfortable, he was getting annoyed. Perfect. Eyebrows were the give-away.

“Why do I have a feeling that I will not be answering any questions at the moment without seeing my sister? Also that if I step one foot out of that door, you or one of your co-workers are going to shoot a bullet right through the centre of my brain?”

Pietro licked his lips in a pretty pathetic attempt, he bowed his head and stared right at Guy 1#. He blinked a couple times and looked back at the man in front of him who was now angrily tapping repeatedly on the desk.

_Anger issues? Even better._

“What is your association with Mr Barton?”

“What about my sister?”

“You will see her shortly.”

“When.”

“Soon.”

“How soon?”

That’s what shot the barrel that contained all of the explosives. A sudden burst of rage filled Guy 2# and he flung the chair he was sat on across the floor. It made a horrible nails on a chalkboard screeching noise as it clattered. He then stormed his way over to Pietro and slammed his hands down on the table. Pietro wanted to wince at the second-hand pain he could feel radiating from the slam.

Guy 2# was fuming. Pietro was pretty sure that if this was a cartoon that smoke would have been coming out of his ears. His face had reddened as he pointed his finger in Pietro’s face.

“You listen to me right now, I do not know who you think you are but you are no where near any possibility of walking out of here with that attitude. You hear me!”

Pietro was not sure if he knew that when he shouted; he spat. He heart was thumping out of his chest, like it had been doing ever since he had woken up. Rubbing his hands on his knees did not work to get rid of the sweat residing in his palms.

“You are going to answer some questions and answer them truthfully, because if I find out that you haven’t, well. You will just have to find out, won’t you.”

Pietro also wasn’t sure whether he knew if that was a question or not. It sure didn’t sound like it. He nodded anyway. However Guy 2# did not back down, he was still uncomfortably in his face. 

"I will ask again, and this time I expect a real answer."

He paused and lent back slightly. Ever so slightly.

"What is your association with Clint Barton?" Guy 2# whispered.

Pietro stayed silent. He kept still. He breathed out. He did not remember breathing in. 

But he knew in the long run, that this did not matter. Nothing really mattered if you really think about it. Just like that shopping trip you had with your parents, yes you, the reader, had that one time and you could not decide what to buy or what to eat for dinner. Whatever you had eaten was only going to be digested and never eaten again and the thing that you did buy was only going to be sent back or never worn again. So what is the point. Or maybe the item for your game that you wanted to buy but could not because you needed the money for something else. Does it really matter? You are just going to use it in any path you had taken.

Nevertheless, Pietro knew that this did matter in the end. Why? It is because he was only one piece to the puzzle. Or otherwise known as Plan B.

Part 1: Stall. And that was Pietro's part.

\---

“¿Quién eres tú? Obviamente estoy aquí por una razón, ¡así que dime qué es!”

(Who are you? I am obviously here for a reason so tell me what it is!)

She did not know where she was and was fearing for her and her brothers life. Also Clint’s. Wanda was distressed and dishevelled. Her hair was just as frantic as she was and tugging at her restraints constantly trying to get free.

Whoever they were had her tied up to the arms of her metal chair and were not able to understand Spanish.

Tears were streaming down her cheeks and her throat was pulsing at the pain. Her screams in multiple foreign languages were not helping.

“Waarom ben ik hier? Je hebt me niet te veroordelen. Ik wil gewoon naar huis!”

(Why am I here? You have nothing to convict me of. I just want to go home!)

Her own captors were shouting at each other to get a translator or if they knew how to speak a different language.

One was a tall blond who had his hands in front of his face while he tried to calm himself down. He looked scrawny but his body said different, he was muscular and well trained. A long thin scar travelled up the back of his left arm and under the sleeve. He was dressed in a white ironed polo shirt and black trousers.

The other was significantly shorter and had light brown hair. He was clearly on edge as he was rocking on the balls of his feet and trying to decipher each and every language that was tumbling out of Wanda’s mouth. He was stood tall and assertive. Wanda thought that he looked like a kicked puppy who was tugging desperately on the hem of your trousers to fight back. Cute.

“Привет? Ты забыл обо мне? Если бы вы двое перестали спорить, как дети, мы бы могли общаться, как взрослые.”

(Hello? Have you forgotten about me? If you two would just stop arguing like children then we could communicate like adults.)

At this point, Wanda had stopped the tears and lent back in the very uncomfortable chair waiting for the two children in front of her to stop arguing. She wasn’t really crying, just acting. But all the talent was wasted on these imbeciles.

Then something sudden came over her and shook her in her seat. The sound of a robot-like human voice began talking.

“Sir, I believe your squabbling must come to a stop as Miss Maximoff has spoken an array of different sentences in approximately 8 languages if I am not mistaken. Despite the vulgarness, I do believe that she is wanting to communicate.”

Wanda’s heart soon started beating at regular paces and her fright had soon diminished as the shorter man said “Thanks Jarvis, could you please repeat, in English, what the last thing she had spoken was.”

Jarvis? Huh, weird.

“Hello? Have you forgotten about me? If you two would just stop arguing like children then we could communicate like adults.” Jarvis repeated.

Wanda felt herself smirk, pressing down a giggle. She knew that she looked crazy, psychotic even. Her hair was like a birds nest; minus the birds. Mascara streaks running down her cheeks and rounded off at her jaw. Red eye shadow was smudged across her temples and matching lipstick smudged down her chin. But, despite all of that, she was lent back in her chair with the smuggest grin she could muster plastered on her face.

The taller man looked with this confused look as he ran his fingers through his hair and scanned her up and down with such amusement. It took the other man a few seconds to realise, and when it did, he looked as if he had died and come back from the dead.

"You little shit!" He shouted and scrambled to sit in the chair. Up close Wanda had this feeling building up in her chest, the sickening feeling that she had seen him before. But her mind was to frazzled and disoriented that his face was like trying to find a needle in a haystack. Ironically, he was not the needle nor was he in any metaphorical haystack as he was sat right in front of Wanda. All she needed to do was remember.

"You have been able to understand English this whole time! 25 minutes we have been here. All of us, throwing ourselves at the door to pin the tail on the donkey. And you left the door open! Letting us tumble and stumble to the ground for you to only pin the tail on the donkey yourself."

Whatever that meant, it sounded ridiculous and ultimately had Wanda throwing her head back and releasing a small laugh. She blew him a kiss in response and started to tap on the edge of her chair. Blondie was now crossing his arms and shifting uncomfortably where he stood. 

_What got stuck up his ass?_

He was not guarding himself or the man sat next to him, as his posture was leaning left; away from him. Stealing glances at his co-worker who had probably forgotten he even existed as he rubbed his elbow with his thumb. Bowing his head at the floor he coughed into his hand shortly and quietly as he scuffed his shoe on the floor. He kept looking upwards towards the corners of the wall behind her. She noticed the tint of pink in his cheeks and the tremors in his hands. 

_Oh._

"Dobrze. Zadaj mi moje pytania, a wtedy zabraknie mi włosów." She spoke two words at a time and with every pair, she lent forward with her smile wiped off from her face. 

"Translation: Right. Ask me my questions and then I will be out of your hair. Mr Stark, would you like me to continue translating?" 

_Stark? That's Tony Stark, how could I be so narrow-minded! How can you study somebody for over 18 months and then forget what he looks like when you finally meet him? That does not matter, this however, just got a lot more interesting._

"Yes thank you, Jarvis," he waved his hand in the air signalling to something, "So, what is your association with Mr Barton?" Stark was looking at Wanda with immense confusion and bedazzlement but was able to keep a straight face.

"Ne vem, o kom govorite. Ta "gospod Barton" in jaz nimam korelacij med seboj."

She could feel the slow and steady beating of her heart, but the feeling she felt, it was as if she was being put on display left a sinking pit in her stomach and will continue to expand the longer she holds this up.

"Translation: I do not know who you are talking about. This 'Mr Barton' and I have no correlation to each other."

This time it was Blondie who decided to voice his opinions. He reached down into the pocket and revealed a rectangular object, he fiddled with the side button and slid it across towards her. It was glowing and showed pictures in the photo gallery of her, Pietro and Clint in all different situations. Compromising images like these were what Wanda had fought to keep secret from people like this. Pain and guilt trickled through her, all around her, everywhere. 

She wanted to reach out and snatch the phone out from their grasp and cuddle it to her chest. She wanted to strangle both men until they became lifeless in her hands for doing this to her. Making her feel this awful and disgusting way. Lingering on a particular photo, her gaze was directed at the image of Clint asleep on her sofa at the apartment they had rented for 2 months a few years ago. He had had hay fever that weekend and had bright red rings around his eyes from where it had been itchy. Clint had totally been wiped out by tree and grass pollen which had also resulted in a runny nose, painful pulsing headaches and a bad case of temper tantrums. 

They had been working overtime and Clint's body had collapsed the second he had managed to put an uncomfortable amount of eye drops and tablets into his system and sat down on the scruffy, torn up sofa. Clint was wearing a jumper that when he bought it, was a size to big and worn out black jeans. Wanda had been writing down valuable information when Pietro had come speeding through, throwing the paper all over the floor and into the kitchen. Wanda had opted to wear new grey shorts and a white crop top. Swearing loudly, Wanda had criticised Pietro for his behaviour, she was sure that he had not been listening, and he had piled all sorts of items on top of Clint as he slept. Pietro was wearing some witty t-shirt and some blue and dark blue trousers.

Books, Plates, Cutlery, you name it; it was there. Wanda had just managed to get a shot of the pile that was stacked higher than either of them could reach and Pietro was lying on the floor laughing with such a joyful smile on his face before it had all come toppling down. 

As quickly as it came, messages were soon scrolling through the screen with nobody touching it. Wanda did not care who had hacked into her phone, she just wished that they had not touched her family. Messages of times were Pietro and Clint had decided to take everything out of the apartment to prank her and she had angrily typed to them about how childish they were being. However, they had denied ever being near that part of town before and for her to stop messing around and walking into random people's homes. Wanda later found them and things did not end well.

Slowly closing her eyes and taking in as much air as she could and blew out the rest through her mouth although the pain behind her eyes were causing tears to formulate in the corners, she remained motion and expressionless. The sob that was threatening to circulate remained still as she begged for her mouth to not quiver in fear and defeat. 

Blondie continued, "I will give you time to change your mind about your answer. It is obvious that you care for your friend and brother so out of respect, I hope that you give us the information that we want or you may never see them again."

_Military man_ , she noticed. You are taught respect. Who deserves it and who does not.

Wanda cautiously opened her eyes and did not look at either of the men as she whisper shouted,

"Fine. You will get what you want, but I expect when I get out of here, with or without you, forcefully or peacefully, for you to fucking leave us alone!"

Part 2: Confuse. And that was Wanda's part. 

\---

He was being pushed. Deep, deep down. They were relentless, grabbing flailing limbs as a way to silence the noise. He had trained himself so ruthlessly, so when this actually did happen, he wouldn't panic. But what did he do? Panic. 

_Pathetically._

His torso had been strapped to a reclining chair after he had been thrown into it, his attempts had been useless at escaping. Clawing at the arms of the people around him, pleading for them to stop. But he didn't think that they heard him. As he didn't hear it come out of his own mouth. But he was sure that he had moved his mouth, didn't he? Frantically darting all over the place his eyes were strained as his head was yanked into place and strapped to the chair. The florescent lights were blinding causing him to squint. Hands were gripping and grabbing all over his body forcing him into positions he did not want to be in. 

He could just make out the outline of a dark skinned man standing above him, nodding and talking to a lady who was bringing a large object over towards him. There were 5 or 6 six people in the room with him, from what he could make out. All of their lips were moving but he couldn't figure out what they were all saying. It was all to much. He needed to get away. 

He himself had started grasping at the limbs he could feel and see, although, his actions were weak and pitiable. Screaming was not something he remembered starting, doing or hearing but his throat ached at the effort. Just like, just like a puppet tied to strings, he was right where they wanted him. The woman was now holding what looked to be a large cloth and was inspecting it in the light. She was smiling to herself but soon stopped as she caught him staring at her. Shivers ran down his spine and he resisted the motion of his body jerking at the feel of it. Closing his eyes, he prepared for the worst.

Suddenly it was all coming together in his head. Dots were connecting and the rush to continue returned at full force. This time it was the need for survival over riding the fear and anxiety. 

Struggling in the restraints, he had somehow managed to bend and twist his wrist to contort to the shape of them and wriggle free. In a matter of time, the other bonds on his arm and legs were tightening; at least he thought they were. Even if he did manage to escape this part, he was pretty sure they had all sorts of weaponry attached to their hips so he needed to make any contact hurt like a bitch. Clinging onto the headset, he pushed and shoved as hard as he could to relive himself of this torture. Unfortunately, the lady had seen him and caught his arm in an iron grip. He bit his lip to mask the pain as it was forced behind the chair at an awkward angle; restraining it to the back of the chair.

Everywhere he focused his attention on his body, seemed to be in some sort of emotional or physical pain. He could see the light blue and dark purple bruises travelling their way up his leg and under the fabric. Whimpering at the sight, his body began to slow. Relaxing in the chair and awaiting its inevitable demise. It calmed his nerves, and made him feel more and more pathetic the more he did it. In the moment, he did not care about what his future self would think about this, that is if he lived long enough to have a chance to rethink the mental and emotional torture they have already pulled him through.

_Breathe in.._

_Breathe out.._

_Breathe in.._

_Breathe_

Vigorously, the cloth was forced upon Clint's face. 

There was no way Clint could have escaped the mighty and dominant force of the water propelling its self through the cloth and down his throat. Clint did a full body jerk at the motion and continued to shake as it tumbled down his airways hitching his breathing. Tossing and turning his head to get away but it was ineffective because wherever he went; it followed. Following at high speeds and crashing into everything it came in remotely close contact with. Spasms ricocheted through his muscles and they tensed up at the sudden pressure and temperature drop, causing Clint to suck in more water as he had aimed for the air that was just pulled out of his reach. 

As soon as it had come, it had stopped. The highly uncomfortable chair had been adjusted so that he was now able to see where he was and what was happening. Men and women alike all stood in the basic and cliche white clothing and were checking his vitals next to him. 

_120 bpm. You sure?_

If it weren't for the man and woman, Clint would have thought he was in some sick hospital. Clint finally managed to lurch over above a conveniently placed bucket to empty his lungs of the tightness. Coughing and wheezing, Clint could not stop his hair getting in his eyes as it had turned from a dirty blond to a dark brown from onslaught of water. He shook his head like a dog to get rid of any water that was left. Tremors filled his body as the cold was biting at his skin, teasing at his feeble and sluggish state. Blinking rapidly to stop the stinging, his vision was fuzzy and blurry but in particular places he could still see clearly. 

Gradually, Clint lifted his head up in an struggle to confront the spinning room. The man's mouth was moving but he couldn't fathom in the slightest what he trying to say. He was talking to fast and only stopping for short periods of time. 

_A deaf or hard of hearing person's worst nightmare._

Somehow, Clint had found it in himself to not look in his direction as his time was better spent trying to perilously grapple himself to victory without moving a muscle. In distress at the thought throwing up all over himself in front of these people. Staring at the dimly lit corner gave Clint the feeling of composure and calmness as he simply ignored all of his problems. As long as he had no sudden movements.

Zoning in and out of conversations had always been a problem for Clint. As Wanda or Pietro would be desperately trying to capture his attention as they had thought he had gone into some type of shock for him to only move away from where he was and act like nothing had happened in the first place. As they had quickly gotten used to it, despite the displeasure it caused them, they knew to just wait to carry on the conversation later when his head was not in the clouds. On the other hand, the woman now in front of him and dangerously close was making all types of raucous and intense noises to grab a hold of his attention. 

Before he had chance to look at her properly, Clint's head was propelled to the side as a hammering pain swelled on his cheekbone. Biting his tongue to stop from making the situation worse. He rocketed forward and heaved onto the floor, it was searing agony and pain that resonated inside of him. Spiting the last of his inside's on the floor with the added seasonings of blood, mild content resided with him, because he knew that he had just ruined their next few hours; the rest of the day or night if he was lucky. 

_Fuck you bitch. You made that happen._

Clint internally smiled to himself at his ..victory and moaned at the pain in his chest and throat. 

Abruptly, a man around the height of 5'9 - 6'1 rushed in slammed the door against the wall as he quickly took out something from an approximately sized ring box.

_Weird place to propose, but okay. You do you I guess._

He had light brown hair and a comforting aroma surrounding him as he quickly rushed towards Clint and unfastened the bonds. Unable to catch himself, Clint was hoisted up by the stranger he fiddled with something at the side of his head. He was then turned onto his right side and it repeated. In seconds, the woman from earlier was slithering her arms under his legs and arms to help move him. Clint was placed sloppily on the floor with all of the strangers looming over him. Intimidated, he tried to curl up in on himself as he had only just noticed that he was dripping in sweat, water and sick. 

Taking a deep breath, that relentlessly washed pain over his chest and lungs, he finally had the relief he was hoping for as the oh so familiar ringing and buzzing chimed through his ears. Adjusting the volume, for it not to damage his ear drums anymore, which he did not think was possible, he limply reached up and ran his fingers through his hair and cupped his face to then slide his hands down his neck to let them slump down of the floor next to him. 

The last words he heard before he peacefully drifted off was things like:

"Mr Barton? Can you hear us?"

"Hey. Wake up asshole."

_So I'm the asshole now?_

But all Clint could think of was 

Part 3: Ignore. And that was Clint's part.


	6. Trapped in Guilt

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> hey. I’m back I guess.

“We needed to see how they would react.”

“By torturing them?”

“I wouldn’t call it that.”

“Then what would you call it?”

He didn’t know. It had been more spontaneous than rational. Everything had. These past couple of hours had not sat right with him. Every twitch, every jolt, every scream. Had him falling even more endlessly into an abyss of guilt. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey. I haven’t updated since July and it is now January. Well done me. My mental health was rapidly declining around that time. You can see that evident in my writing. I didn’t know what I was doing. I still don’t. I didn’t have control over my life then and it scared me. It still does. I have no idea why every now and again I’ll see Kudos being placed on this. I haven’t updated in 6 months. This chapter is basically to allow myself to see if I want to continue this or not. At the moment it is looking likely. I might take this down and start all over again. Although it may be abandoned again in the worst case scenario. I really don’t want to because I did really like the idea I had for this. But thank you I guess because I was extremely excited when I first published this. Anyways, Miss Rona happened.. Another reason why I took a break away from this was because of medical problems. It’s all sorted now. But I was really struggling, I still am. October/November was really hard for me, if those things didn’t happen, I would have been back sooner. But all I can say is thank you for your incredible patience. I might re write this whole thing into something I actually like, instead a clump of ideas mushed together with barely any glue. I appreciate you so much for baring with me. Thank you.


End file.
